Go back to square one and skip a turn.
My ex broke up with her boyfriend. Jolly for me, you’d think, but I advised her to get back together with him. She’s better off with him, and I already said goodbye. Took me long enough, but apparently I did. From here it can go both ways: either I’m fucked for another year, or I’ll be able to finally cut loose from what’s been cracking my skull for the past 15 months. I’m quite scared, to be honest.
There is a branch in underground graffitti art that is called "Ghentism". Seriously. For some reason Ghent has its own unique style, especially in sticker and stencil art, and less, but still so in pieces. A recent addition to it are the Soulwax advertisements and "LOST" stencils, both painted on the pavement. I’m not sure if they are related somehow, I don’t think so, but I do know that the LOST ones made a very strong impression on me. It’s just a word, in generic font, painted onto the sidewalk. It seemed to me like a question, as if it wants to leads you the way. I searched for details I’d have missed but I found none, which disappointed me. I could use some directions once in a while. I wouldn’t follow them, of course, but at least I’d know how I’m doing.
I was planning on getting me new safety boots, checking if my camera was in yet and hopping by the copyshop to design and print some cards to give stage managers that were as enthousiastic about my work as the one from the Coldplay crew. Instead, I stayed at home and did absolutely nothing but having to live with a mental case, and myself. And Why?? Because thousands of belgians, including the worthless lazy bastards of the local public transportation company, think they will get anywhere by going on strike.
"To go on strike" in dutch is "staken". Staken literally means "to cease". As in ‘Staakt het vuren’, which means ‘cease fire’. Any dumb shithead that ever held a rifle knows damn well ‘cease fire’ means ‘stop firing’, and not ‘go run in the line of fire of those that are shooting at eachother’. Belgians however, are the superior superlative of stupidity. Look it up: It’ll say Stupid – Stupider – Stupidest – Belgian. They put up blockades so that other citizens, who have a family to feed and don’t care about all this BS, can’t work either. That’s a goddamn violation of the right to work that is just as important as the right to go on strike.
And why are they going on strike? Because the belgian government raised the minimum retiring age by a few years. It is nescessary to compensate for the aging population. Oh Noes! Thousands of belgians rise up and go on strike!
But what is the point of a strike, anyway? By stopping your work you make it impossible for your company to work properly, so they miss deadlines and lose a lot of money in a scary short amount of time. The management quickly freaks out and agrees to any terms you wish. But the unions that go on strike aren’t targeting their companies this time, but the government. As if they care! This isn’t going to cost them a single cent off their big fat paychecks, so who will be paying for the damage done to the economy? Easy: the government just throws tax money at it. From Tax Payers. Like You. And Me. Fucking retards. And now, if I’d run into an orgy in progress or anything, I won’t have my camera with me. Oohhh but I will find them. I will hunt them down, to the last. single. one.
My leg hurts like a bitch. It makes me feel so stupid I could just sit and laugh at myself. I was merrily shooting through town on my bike, when I got distracted. As I said, it was stupid: a shop I used to know that moved some time ago, and I wanted to see what happened to the building. When I looked back in front of me, I saw a knee-high pole about a meter away. At my speed it was impossible not to hit it, but can’t blame a man for trying eh. I was in the middle of the leaning-to-the-side process of trying to turn, when the bike hit the pole and just, stopped. I launched off and I rolled over my shoulder (I think), either way I ended up on my knees facing my bike. As I was thrown off the crossbar that holds the steer in place hit the inside of my leg, damn hard. I’m just happy I was leaning to the side, who knows where it would have ended up otherwise…
The bike’s okay, and I suppose so am I. The punch just left quite a bruise and it hurts like hell when I move my leg (stairs are agony). They say being crazy doesn’t hurt, but idiocy obviously does. I hope it gets better soon.